Present and Accounted For
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Accustomed to enjoying her long trips away from the prison, Michonne learns that there are benefits to returning home. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I don't own any part of The Walking Dead franchise and no profit has or will occur from this work. Set between seasons 3 and 4 with mild season 4 spoilers.**_

_**Here's another one from the archives. I needed a break from working on my other stuff so I dusted off this little experiment. It's a bit rough around the edges but presentable enough I suppose. Snow is on the horizon so, hopefully, that'll mean more updates on my other stories. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome. **_

* * *

**Chapter One**

One day, a realization comes to Michonne as she leads Flame towards a familiar stream for a quiet drink and rest.

The funny thing is that it never seems like an epiphany or anything—just one of those stream of consciousness statements that run through your mind before you can censor it or backtrack or qualify it. In fact, when she turns the thought over in her mind, those deflecting tactics never even come into play. She just sort of rewinds the sentiment and comes to the same, newly articulated conclusion.

She really misses them, her new family back home at the prison.

It isn't just the absence of fondness or the longing for some specific sensation of comfort. She well and truly misses them. She didn't know she was capable of feeling that anymore after … everything.

She leads Flame from the shore and allows her to graze a few feet away. The horse seems happy enough with the respite, although she's usually as eager as Michonne is to be on the move. As Michonne looks around for signs of any useful food or supply items or hints of nearby life, her mind wanders to them again and she wonders if they miss her too; if anyone is thinking about her like she's thinking about them. She likes to think so. The promise of it makes her smile out here on her own with only Flame for company.

When she first started coming out alone, she knew that it was for a purpose. She'd gotten used to spending time out with Daryl, going on supply runs and looking for the Governor. But as time passed and their success dwindled, more pressing concerns and different priorities kept Daryl at the prison. It probably felt stranger for him to embrace his new role than it was for her to revert back to her old, solitary ways but it had been an adjustment for sure.

So she definitely misses him.

And she misses not spending as much time with Carl. They'd had a fun winter holed up in the prison, going through the stash of comic books she found over the fall. She thinks of him as a good kid, a boy a parent can be proud of. At such a young age, he's both obedient but prepared to become his own man and defend that identity to anyone who challenged it. Maybe she'd hit that housing development after all and see if she can dig up more treats for him.

She misses Rick too, ever the vigilant confidante. If Daryl could be counted as her wingman, Rick is her sensible companion dispensing advice and playing the role of her benign overseer. Daryl is more likely to sass her about something but it'd be Rick who put him up to it. They are an important support for each other in a way that no one else at the prison can be and it's lonely out here sometimes without that nearby.

Michonne can imagine what everyone would be doing at the prison right now. In a few hours they'd be shutting down for the day as all the various recreational evening activities started up. It was around that time that all the lovebirds found convenient excuses to disappear to a remote part of the prison. At least Glenn and Maggie didn't even bother hiding it anymore. Some would gather together for the friendly camaraderie while others would seek solitude and rest. Rick and Carl would be spending time with Judith. Hershel would be relaxing in the company of one or more of his numerous friends—he was definitely the most popular guy at the prison even if Daryl elicited more hero worship. Carol would be buzzing around in an effort to complete one of her long list of projects. Michonne swore that place would be a disaster without Carol getting on all the stuff that needed to be done. Maybe she'd get Daryl to help, listening to him grumble as he complied with every tedious request she made of him. Those two were a trip.

Flame turns from chewing on the grass and nudges Michonne in the arm with her nose, her way of telling Michonne to quit her stalling and get on the road.

"What do you say we head home?" she asks out loud, pretending she can carry on an entire coherent conversation with her equine traveling companion. It isn't any crazier than talking to her dead boyfriend, after all. Besides, in her mind, Flame has the uncanny ability to agree with almost anything she suggests.

True to her musings, Michonne passes by the abandoned housing development and scouts it out to report back to Sasha and Daryl. While she's out here, she may as well be productive, she figures, and her intel comes in pretty handy sometimes. She hits a few houses, noting which ones still have some supplies that might be handy to the folks at the prison. In the third house she finds a few graphic novels and comics, not a ton but nothing to sneeze at either. And these actually look pretty good. They'd been reading the same boring ones for a while now. Seeing the sun starting to make its descent, she hops back on Flame and gets on the road, weighed down with more supplies than she usually travels with. If Flame is annoyed about the heavier load, she doesn't show it.

She could have changed her mind and gone the other direction after leaving the housing development, spending a little more time on the road. But once she found the comics stash for her and Carl, she committed to heading back to the prison. Those earlier longings for her friends haven't faded away. Maybe she'd be gone again in a day or two, but for now it'd be nice to have the company, remind her why she's out here in the first place trying so hard to tie up loose ends.

Michonne rides steadily, trying to beat the sun so as not to sneak up on anybody. There is usually someone on watch at night but it's just harder to get in cleanly when folks aren't ready for her.

Luckily, when Michonne rounds the corner to come up the main path, Glenn and Maggie are walking outside having a lively conversation with Beth and that kid from the new group. Zach she thinks his name is. She's not really around enough to catch everyone's name and life story and such but she doesn't need to be completely in the know to protect them and what everyone is building with the group.

She whistles to announce her presence and tries to suppress her smile at seeing the familiar faces react to her return. The younger crowd isn't so constrained and telegraphs their delight at welcoming her back as they open the gate. Dismounting and unloading, she simply lets the pleasure of reconnecting with them take over. The small greeting party is full of an enthusiasm that is contagious. They remind her of who she used to be when she was their age. The end of the world didn't change some things.

Her yearning satisfied for the time being, she leads Flame up the main path into the further comforts of home.

TBC ...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

After making the rounds and dropping some things off, Michonne finds him at the bottom of Tower 3. He's moving stuff around and probably cleaning house about as much as he's hiding from the folks at the prison. His popularity has surged in the last few months and a solitary man like Daryl doesn't really know what to do with that newfound status.

It's kind of funny the occasions she gets to sneak up on him, that look of bewilderment and subsequent irritation always an amusing emotion to elicit in him. Today's reaction to her stealth is no exception but he tops off his expressive outburst with something unexpected: joy. Or as close to joy as this damaged redneck will allow himself.

"Well, I'll be damned," he exclaims, that guarded half-grin on full display to accompany his words. "Ya finally got back in the mood for some decent company?"

Michonne thinks he gets a little too much pleasure out of teasing her so she doesn't rise to this bait. She might lose her edge and, in the process, her ability to strong-arm him into doing her bidding. People would probably be surprised and skeptical to hear that, except for maybe Carol who also knows how to wrap the younger Dixon around her finger. But there is something about the way their relationship developed that allows her to get the upper hand most of the time. It isn't that he's scared of her, per se, more like he prefers to stay on her good side. Or maybe it's that he too doesn't like to be crowded emotionally and understands how easily a flippant gesture can spook people like them.

"My company was plenty good," she finally responded. "Flame's a great conversationalist. Better than you."

"Mmhmm," he said, stacking some boxes to make a little room in the corner. "You bring me back somethin' worth a damn this time?"

He loves to keep bringing up her one and only complete miss. She had run across the home of a hunting enthusiast and went through a considerable amount of trouble bringing back as many items as she could for the group. Well, she'd said it was for the group but he was the one she'd had in mind when she got it. But he'd taken one look at her stash and deemed most of it either broken or unworkable, although they'd found some use for a few things. To his credit, he didn't rub salt in her wounds about it until long after, when the jab became funny rather than hurtful.

Instead of answering, she places her spoils at his feet and retreats back to the doorway: a couple of car batteries and a full auto repair kit, complete with some tools she knows he doesn't have. She'd dropped off a regular toolkit with Rick too to help with his work.

Daryl glances down at the goods, seemingly unimpressed. He takes his time stowing whatever it was he was working with prior to her arrival before kneeling down in front of her items for a closer inspection. He pokes and prods while Michonne stares at him as cool as ever.

"Not bad," he says, finally. "Might could hook some 'a these up downstairs for extra juice when we need it." He picks up the batteries and stores them in a nook it seems he saved for the items. Then he goes through the tools as well. He's dragging things out on purpose, she's sure of it. She leans against the doorframe and waits for a proper response.

Instead of any praise he says, "I suppose you want a pat on the back now or somethin'." He doesn't look at her when he utters his begrudged appreciation but she can tell he's pleased.

"I don't know about a pat on the back but a 'thank you' might serve just as well."

"Thanks." He makes no effort to stray from his usual laconic responses but that doesn't stop him from being amused at her impatience.

"Is that all you got?" Michonne asks as she shifts away form the door and approaches him.

"What else ya want?" Daryl replies, gruff and intense all of a sudden. The mood shifts in the small, dark room they find themselves in, the air growing thicker as the heat builds.

"Funny that you ask …" Michonne reaches for him where he stands in the middle of the space and pulls him to her by the shirttails. He doesn't protest. She needn't wait for their bodies to meet before stretching up to crush her lips onto his. Although Daryl isn't exactly seducing her, his first reaction is an awkward grip of her body, tentative but immediate. His mouth becomes the first to tease as his shy response coaxes her into craving a deeper taste of him. She slides her arms around his neck and he backs her into the nearest wall, bracing himself against the warm concrete to buffer their momentum.

Oh yes, she misses this.

"Anybody see ya come in here?" he asks. His hands are already wandering, offering that pat on the back in the form of a rhythmic squeezing of her ass.

She did some exploring of her own, her hands finding their way into his hair. When he starts distracting her by kissing along her neck and unzipping her vest, she gets herself a good handful of his stringy, sweaty mop and pulls him back up to her mouth. He grunts in surprise but accepts her alpha tactic by grinding into her as a reminder of how he still has her pinned against the wall.

When she has sufficiently experienced a good, thorough sampling of him, she releases his mouth and lets him go back to marking his territory. "I don't know if anyone saw me but it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out where either of us is." It's getting dimmer in the windowless room and she can barely make out his features so close to him and away from the light spilling in through the door.

"We best get to it then." The darkness can't hide that predatory determination in his expression, the one that always has her dropping her panties for him whenever he directs all that caged lust onto her, tempered only by the scars of his insecurity. He pushes her vest aside and reaches down to undo her belt.

This isn't specifically what she had in mind when she'd gotten it into her head to rush back to the prison but she's glad Daryl thought to make the homecoming a little sweeter right out the gate. It has been a while for them, after all.

She pauses his hands at her hip. "Maybe we should close the door first," she says, smirking over at the entrance where the door stands slightly ajar.

Lifting his head from where it has been gnawing along her collarbone, Daryl squeezes at her waist and steps back. "Alright." He lets her go to take care of it, a bit embarrassed that he'd gotten so carried away that he'd forgotten that detail.

Personally, she finds his enthusiasm undeniably sexy and an incredible turn-on.

He turns to her on the way to the door. "I aint complainin' but maybe we wouldn't need to cut ourselves off if you didn't get so damn loud." Although the words are harsh, his tone lets her know he means it as a backwards kind of compliment. She shrugs. It's not like he isn't complicit.

She isn't above retaliating though, playing into his possessiveness despite the casual nature of their sexual relationship. "I just thought it was a good idea in case other folks want to come by and show their gratitude. I brought Rick back a nice, shiny tool kit too. I wonder how he'll want to thank me?" A swift flash of his middle finger signals what Daryl thinks of that suggestion. Laughter tumbles from Michonne's throat before she can stop it.

His amused expression contorts into an immediate frown when he approaches the doorway. She hears him curse under his breath right before he adjusts himself and shakes his head. That's when she picks up voices coming towards them from a distance. A similar frustration simmers inside her too as she refastens her belt and takes a deep breath.

On the positive side, although the interruption is disappointing, better now than five minutes from now. Besides, they can just get rid of whoever it is and get back to business.

When Glenn and Tyreese come through the door, Michonne has returned to her usual casual demeanor, looking fresh as a daisy; Daryl is as surly as ever. Tyreese doesn't notice anything amiss but Glenn seems a little suspicious of them.

"Hey Michonne. I came out here for some repair equipment but I hear you brought back some tools that might help me out." Tyreese glances around the room looking for the haul.

She points at the kit and Tyreese and Glenn go through it excited about how much easier whatever task they are doing will be. She notices Daryl standing by the door, arms crossed and looking kind of pissed. So not much different than his usual demeanor. Still, he's pouting and it's unbecoming—hilarious but unbecoming. She sends him a warning glare and he rolls his eyes before pushing himself away from the wall.

Being denied some quality time with her clearly doesn't sit well with him. A tiny part of Michonne basks in that.

TBC ...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Michonne hadn't planned on hooking up with Daryl. It wasn't like there had been this grand courtship or song and dance where they let the sexual tension build to an undeniable frenzy. It's still amazing to think of those who found time and energy for that, post-apocalypse. Instead, one day they just had one of those moments when they realized it might be nice to enjoy a bit of base pleasure while they had the opportunity and inclination. It also happened to go down after a rainstorm forced them to shed some layers and sit naked in the car for a while until their clothes went from a dripping mess to an unpleasantly damp but tolerable nuisance.

So maybe the circumstances had been cliché. But the point is that there had been nothing terribly romantic about that first coming together.

From the safety of their car, they'd only had a dingy sheet to offer any kind of covering and Michonne had let Daryl have it seeing as how he was the most distressed at being unclothed. Personally, she'd been through situations way more stressful than worrying about whether Daryl Dixon saw her naked. But she also didn't want to embarrass him. She'd seen some of the scars he preferred to keep hidden and she got the sense that he wasn't that adept at dealing with women in any kind of sexual way. He'd even get so flustered around Carol when she'd flirt with him in jest and he was closer to her than anyone else at the prison. So Michonne sat in her wet clothes after she crawled into the backseat and let him get squared away before shedding her layers. With each piece of clothing she'd take off and lay out next to his, he'd nervously kept his eyes from landing anywhere suspicious. She definitely had to suppress her humor at that.

It also occurred to her that he was acting so squirrely because of a genuine, underlying interest in seeing her naked, an impulse that he was trying to fight.

And then he had surprised her. The temperature wasn't warm but it wasn't terribly cold either. The nights got chilly and the days had turned pleasantly mild after several months of a moderately freezing winter. Judging by the spread of weather, it was probably late spring. So sitting in the backseat of the car without any clothes on wasn't too much of a hardship, yet after a few minutes of silence, Daryl wordlessly passed back his mostly dry leather vest for Michonne to cover herself with. It wasn't much use for his modesty after all. Michonne wrapped herself as best she could in the cool, weathered material of his most iconic accessory, save that crossbow that rested at his feet. She tried not to lose herself in how the smell of him invaded her senses. And the sweetness of the offer was an incredible aphrodisiac.

Maybe it made him feel better to offer the covering rather than imagine her sitting naked behind him. He later told her that the image of her in his clothes actually made things worse for him.

Michonne made the first move, of course, after briefly catching his eye in the rearview mirror. He'd tried to play it off like he was checking for walkers but she knew better. She asked if he was interested, told him it was okay if he wasn't and that she didn't have any particular expectations about the encounter. To his surprise, he'd accepted—or rather, he shrugged and didn't protest when she climbed over the seat to straddle him. After that move they just kind of went with it.

* * *

Thinking back on it, the whole thing was like jumping into the pool when you're not sure how cold the water is. There's that uncertainty and point of no return when your feet leave the safety of the edge. That first contact holds a momentary shock. Then all your nerves are alight and you're surrounded by stimuli as the sensations move along your body, toes to knees to hips to neck and beyond. You're in over your head; you're falling, then you're drowning and you can't breath for the newness of the world into which you've plunged yourself. The water has to make way for you but you're strangers in those first few moments as you take up space that before had been minding it's own.

And then you move an arm and swing a leg around and suddenly you're floating. Suddenly the water is working around you and against you and you still can't breathe but it's okay because you're swimming and that's much, much better. You realize that the water just looked dangerous but it was never too cold; it was just right and you don't regret taking that leap.

* * *

Michonne learned a few practical things that day.

You have to be creative when you're having sex in a car with your clothes taking up the entire back seat and weapons that need to be available but out of the way. The method used to navigate that had been the funniest part of the encounter, Daryl trying to throw his crossbow into the passenger seat while she inadvertently enticed him further when she reached for her katana to rest it near his weapon.

You also have to be creative when you're trying to get yourself and your partner off in a world where babies are about the most stressful thing you can imagine saddling yourself with, Lil Asskicker aside. That's when you thank your lucky stars that the other most frequent users of your vehicle are a couple as good as married who have a history of going at it like rabbits. Sometimes they leave behind helpful items.

Michonne reflected that whether you're together a few hours or a few years, you tend to remember that first intimate encounter with a person, even if it was bad. Especially if it was bad, actually. For her, Daryl would be no different. He wasn't into foreplay as such. When he paid special attention to letting his tongue work aggressively at her breasts, it felt like it was an act he was compelled by desire to do. The way he'd clutch at her neck to return her lips to his could have seemed off-putting if it weren't for the gentle, almost reverent way he'd lean into that kiss. She allowed him to touch her at his pace and comfort, knowing that she'd enjoy just sharing something so intense with a man who didn't open himself up much to anyone. The car moved along with their undulations and when he came, it was the only time he closed his eyes on the encounter. He left them closed for long, beautiful moments afterwards.

Turns out, he never did manage to get his vest off of her while they went at it, although she did convince him to share his sheet. During their later encounters, he sometimes liked to replicate that.

* * *

Michonne insisted to herself that he hadn't rocked her world or anything. All in all, it had been a quick and dirty time for a variety of reasons. But she'd freely admit that quick and dirty felt incredibly good when it was with a man like Daryl Dixon. She'd had better sex in her time but not much, and that was a gift given how slim the pickings were these days. If his response was anything to go by, he'd been pretty pleased too.

And it awoke something that made them both want to come back to it again and again.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Daryl catches up with her the next day, early enough to stop her before she gets into anything but late enough for her to get her regular business done.

It was Michonne's usual thing to be out before the sun was up but she didn't expect many to be up with her. Rick and Beth had roused themselves before everyone else, the former getting Judith ready for her day and the latter taking over for him when other duties called. That was about it as far as activity.

Michonne got in some exercise while listening to the sounds of her prison home coming to life all around her. Then she spent the morning hanging out with Carl and helping with his chores before checking in with Sasha about the areas she'd scouted out while on her journey. When she passed Dr. S. and Hershel chatting about their supply stock, she volunteered to take care of a few things for them so that they could go about their plans.

Daryl approaches her as she's finishing up some errands for Hershel; she can tell immediately that he's still pissed about the interruption the day before. Tyreese and Glenn had hung around for way longer than they'd expected and then Carl had wandered over looking for her and the whole damn rendezvous became a bust. Hooking up later might have worked out but she was asleep barely an hour after the sun had completely set.

Gently slapping her on the shoulder with the back of his hand, he flicks his head towards the exit. "Come on," he urges. She complies because why not?

They pass through the halls of the prison and the gravel paths surrounding it until she finds herself back at the bottom of Tower 3. This time Daryl makes sure to bring a lamp and to lock the door behind them. Michonne watches all of it with amused, curious eyes. Without an additional word spoken since he'd beckoned her on this private mission, he once again unzips her vest before reaching down to unfasten her belt.

They barely get themselves naked enough to do the deed as a frantic lust takes over. For their second attempt at screwing each other senseless, it is Michonne that pushes Daryl against the wall to tease, working him over good until she lowers him to the ground and has her way with him. He should know by now that whenever he tries to start something with her, she's going to want to finish it.

It is another quick and dirty affair that Michonne has become addicted to since that first encounter with him.

As they re-dress, Daryl shakes the dirt from his hair and pulls Michonne to him with an uncharacteristic seduction. Kissing her soundly on the lips, he lets her go just as quickly and unlocks the door.

"Welcome back." He bows his head shyly and disappears out the door. Even though he spent the last fifteen minutes eliciting the most undignified sounds from her, his awkwardness would always be an endearing constant, just like the friends and community members who'd greeted her and the spaces always left open solely for her to fill when she came around.

Smiling to herself, Michonne follows him. She has missed this. It feels good to be home.

_End_


End file.
